Rim Fire

A couple of people have asked if the Rim Fire in California is threatening us. We are north of San Francisco Bay, and the city of San Francisco is mentioned frequently in news reports because much of its water comes from the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir, and the fire has burned right up to the reservoir. But all of this is hundreds of miles away.The governor has declared a state of emergency for San Francisco because of its water supply being threatened. Also it is served by hydroelectric plants at Hetch Hetchy, and they have been closed at present.

map of Rim Fire

This map shows yesterday's updates. I pasted a copy of it here but you really can't see it unless you click on the link, and if you zoom in on it there you can see the name Hetch Hetchy toward the upper right. I don't know if it will still be available when more new reports come in today and later, but it was definitely helpful to me to have the visual aid. Dear Lord, protect the firefighters and give them success.

My gleanings include rubbish and pies.

I guess I've had enough time and thinking power this week to read and ponder, but my activities didn't result in anything of my own to posit or report, so I'll just pass on some recent gleanings.

Women Priests?  I love it when a reviewer is bold enough to say "This book is rubbish." Honesty and confidence! Although, if that's all she can say, she won't get a hearing; I want to hear reasons for her belief. I just read this blog post titled "Merlin Stone's book is rubbish", and though I had never heard the author's name before I immediately wanted to read that article.

It's a brief review of  When God Was a Woman, which the blogger first had to read in seminary years ago. She writes, "There is neither historical nor anthropological support for her thesis that the Hebrews suppressed goddess worship. She tries to prove that the Canaanites had a matriarchial and matrilineal structure. She is wrong on both counts." Go to the blog Just Genesis to read the supporting details. The writer always has lots of fascinating historical and archeological knowledge to pass on.

Pies, pies, pies... Three women collaborated on a book, which as soon as I read about it I had to have sent as a birthday gift for my granddaughter. It may be a bit early for her, but I like to encourage little girls to start taking a creative role in the kitchen and to look to real grownups for inspiration.

The book is Pieography, written by Jo Packham, Food Styling by Anne Marie Klaske, Photography by Traci Thorson. All of these women have blogs; Jo and Traci feature photos of some pies, but I think you have to get the book if you want the recipes and stories.

I haven't seen the book yet, but I've enjoyed Anne Marie's blog in particular. The clean and elegant style is nice to surf around in and see snippets of the Klaske Family's farm life. On Thursdays you can get inspired to bake pies!

Death of the Old Man:  Father Stephen Freeman shared a link to his daughter's blog, on St. John of the Cross and the loss of identity, or the Dark Night of the Soul, or the "death of the old man." Actually the subtitle of the post is "The Loss and Discovery of our Identity in God" (italics mine), so it ends on a very positive note, to be sure.

She writes, "If we had always thought of the death of our old man as purely symbolic, it may come as something of a shock to think of real pain being involved. But when our turn inevitably comes to go through pain or tragedy, then we may take comfort in knowing that many have travelled down this path before us."

Icons and Images:  A book on the history of the use and theology of images in Jewish culture and in the church is the subject of this blog post on Orthodox-Reformed Bridge. Early Christian Attitudes Toward Images is written by Stephen Bigham, and a series of four blog posts is planned to review the book. This structure follows the organization of the book:

The book is divided into four chapters. Chapter 1 deals with the “hostility theory” which holds that the early Christians were hostile toward images. Chapter 2 deals with early Jewish attitudes toward images. Chapter 3 deals with the early Christian attitudes towards images, that is, the pre-Constantinian period. Chapter 4 deals with Eusebius of Caesarea who witnessed the beginning of Constantinian era.

The author is an Orthodox priest, and the blogger Robert Arakaki was Reformed in his theology before converting to Orthodoxy. I'm looking forward to reading all the reviews of what looks to be a thorough treatment of the subject.

Beethoven in Space:  Lastly, here's a music video featuring Hubble images and beautiful music. A blessed weekend to you all!

This chock-full week in June...

In church, we will soon be celebrating Pentecost, on the 23rd of June. Last night was the Leavetaking of Pascha service that I love, the last time we would sing "Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death!" in the services until next Pascha. Tonight the Feast of Ascension began; until Pentecost we greet once another with "Christ is ascended!" and the response is, "From earth to heaven!"

loaves proofing

Between now and October 1st our parish has many feast days, so our team of communion bread bakers has a busy season ahead. Yesterday three of us worked at making the large loaves used in the altar, and the photos show some of my efforts.

just after sprinkling on some curry spices

At home I'm reveling in glorious vegetables. In the last few days I've juiced lots of vegetables raw, and also made big batches of kale and Turkish Green Beans and stir-fried Asian vegetables.

My recent favorite way to cook sweet potatoes or yams is to roast them at 450° or 500° with coconut oil and curry powder. I don't measure anything, and have used varying amounts of all the ingredients -- also different blends of curry spices, plus a little salt. It doesn't seem to matter if I stir the spices in at the beginning or partway through the baking. I bake them till they are tender. And then I eat them like candy.

Pippin sent me a link to this photo journal of grandmas around the world and the food they cook. I am considering what dish I might pose with were I asked to participate, and what clothes I could wear that would make me look half as cute as the Bolivian grandma in the collection....you're right, it would take more than clothes. I love the way the women arrange the ingredients so artfully in the "before" photos. An example is below.

The Egyptian grandma looks pleased.

From our son Soldier we got a link for a short film you can watch online (less than 15 minutes), about a man in the mountains of Ecuador who is The Last Ice Merchant. It's always a joy to see footage of a human soul taking satisfaction from hard work well done.

But progress means that people can get factory ice cheaply and the old-style ice he sells has become a specialty item. It's not likely anyone will want to take up the cause of nostalgia once he is gone. But I wouldn't be surprised if the ice he hauls down the mountain is sweeter than the cheap and more convenient blocks.

The last ice merchant

Another man whose character inspired me this week by way of the movie "Searching for Sugarman" is Sixto Rodriguez, a singer whose music never took off in the U.S. His two records failed to sell, and he lived simply and humbly for decades after, not knowing that his music was hugely popular and motivating and successful in South Africa. When his fans there discovered that he wasn't dead as rumored, they brought him to that country to do several concerts.

Rodriguez

Suddenly he is famous -- but he didn't lose his endearing simplicity and generosity. I was impressed at how he seemed to have passed his gentle spirit on to his daughters who are also introduced in the film. I liked all but one person in this documentary, and I liked Rodriguez's voice very much, and a couple of his songs.










There you have my happy hodgepodge. Oh, and here is what my Mother's Day lily looked like when we got back from Oregon.

Funny Stories, Stew and Rescue

I'm having a good week, in spite of the Giants being behind in the NLCS. Today was 90°! so we opened the window to the front yard and for a few minutes, as I stood watching my favorite baseball players at bat, the aroma of sweet olive wafted through the window. Heaven came down.

I made brownies for my husband, took a walk, bought some groceries and did laundry, caught up with a dear friend, and even worked on a book review that's giving me a hard time...and now I'm passing on to my blogging friends some fun things I found in my blog treasure box. Yes, thanks be to God.

The funniest story I have read in a long while, at Bread and Roses, about a kitchen wall.

An oh-so-practical and realistic, encouraging list of Ways to Rescue a Bad Day for mothers with children at home, from Like Mother, Like Daughter. I think it could also serve nicely for menopausal women, those recovering from the flu, or just generally low-energy homemakers.

A chicken stew that sounds like an easy way to use my Costco boneless chicken thighs, and that includes Persian spices, walnuts, AND exotic pomegranates, some of my favorite foods.

A dad comedian who made me laugh and laugh over his stories of having four kids:

Around the Internet World

More odds and ends from the virtual library or discovery museum out there in digital space. Some of these I found a couple of months ago and then forgot to tell about. My collection has grown to such a size....I better pass these along NOW:

**I probably already told you about the The Poem Farm, which blogger Amy says "...is my poem-playground, a place to share teaching and writing ideas, and a cozy spot to highlight poetry in classrooms. If you are a teacher or a student, please consider sharing here on an upcoming Poetry Friday." A recent Poetry Friday post is at right.

**Yay! Vindication for my wooden cutting board. Since my wedding I have been using the lovely one my brother made in high school wood shop, and our family always seemed to be healthier than many, so I wasn't worried. I didn't dream, though, that wood is actually safer than plastic.

**A performance of Beautiful Bach was the kind of pleasant surprise one gets on Facebook sometimes. I understand the performer made a foot pedal for the chromatic button on his harmonica in order to play as he does here.

**Who couldn't use help on keeping the family car looking better? I was charmed and inspired by the practical and literally refreshing ideas Sobe Organized gives in these Steps toward a cleaner car.

** The Candy Professor shows us what a variety of real food ingredients was in candy in 1926, compared to what she calls our current "over-chocolated" world.

**Wayside Wanderer posted a thought-provoking sermon excerpt on what makes a truly Strong Woman.

**One of my favorite learning resources that I have mentioned many times in individual blog posts is The Mars Hill Audio Journal. It just occurred to me that I have failed to pass on to my readers an easy and free way to get a taste of what is available through this audio magazine. Though they don't provide bonus CD tracks any longer on the bimonthly journals, the old listenable tracks are online and ready for anyone to hear at the click of a mouse. Some of my favorite authors and thinkers are on this list, discussing everything from Ents, Mozart, and Hawthorne to Ritalin, reality TV, and Wendell Berry. Maybe someone reading this will get sparked into a discussion after listening to one of these short interviews. Tell me if you do!

Probably no one has time now with holiday or holy-day preparations going on,  to actually look at these pages, but they will keep.

Heathenish Noise

Why does that adjective heathenish come to mind? Maybe because peace and quiet are hard to come by anymore, and seem to require diligence and mindfulness. The current practice of designing alarms into every machine makes no provision for our need for refuge from the noisy world that is often right outside the door. They are uncivilized in that way.

My house is starting to resemble a hospital emergency room, with all the many and varied BEEPs signifying matters that need to be attended to. As in the ER, the matters are not usually life-threatening, and the messages might just be that things are working as they should. The oven beeps to let me know it has reached the desired temperature. My car beeps to tell me it is locked.

My new refrigerator beeps if I leave the door open longer than one minute. This is less of a problem now that it's been moved into the kitchen where it belongs, but it was a constant annoyance during remodeling when I would go out to the garage to get some cold item and find that by the time I arrived, I'd have forgotten what I wanted, and stand staring into territory that was also unfamiliar. Or I was trying to figure out whether moving a shelf would improve the organization, but the psychic tension of waiting for the beeping to start was almost worse than the beep itself, and would make it hard to think calmly.

My old appliances did beep once to tell me when the timer expired, or when the microwave turned off. The new ones never stop the infernal beeping until I do something about it, like open the microwave or press a button on the stove. And all this for my convenience, I'm sure. Though I would rather risk my mug of tea getting cold in the microwave than have one more seemingly gentle alarm. All these many small beeps are like a constant and aggravating sound of dripping, or like the raven quoting "Nevermore," that threaten to take my sanity from me.

This morning as B. and I were standing in the kitchen, I heard a beep so faint I thought it must not be in the same room. Perhaps it was from a neighbor's house...but when I stuck my head out the back door, there was quiet. I walked toward the garage, and it got louder. Oh, no! The washing machine had stalled and was flashing a new error message along with a frequent beep, just minutes after I'd canceled the Sears repair request because the other error message was in remission.  

I was getting ready to have a friend for lunch for her birthday, even though the house is still in great disorder, but all morning I dealt with the washer. Decided to call a different repair person, because I had had enough of the impersonal (and also heathenish) Sears telephone system. Then I had to be sure I kept the washer malfunctioning so that the repairman wouldn't come for nothing. That took so much time I had to drastically alter the menu. Also, I don't know what box my baking pans in, so I realized I can't make banana bread yet! I don't know where the citrus juicer is, so bottled lime juice instead of fresh lemon juice went into the kale chips.

I was getting items from the fridge to start lunch when the microwave beeped, because I'd put my tea in there to reheat after it was forgotten in the flurry over the washer. So I went to take it out, but I must not have shut the fridge, and that started beeping. Shut that door...o.k....Now go out and check on the washer, to see if it will start now that it's cooled a bit. No, it won't start--but the beeper is working great.

When I came back in the kitchen there was, I hate to say it, a new and different beep happening. God, help me! This one was very fast and furious. Was it the refrigerator telling me that it's too hot, perhaps? No....How about the stove? Is something burning, or shorting? This beep sounds so urgent. But it seems to be between the fridge and the stove.....in the drawer.  Oh. It is a comparatively old-fashioned electronic timer that must have been accidentally bumped when I shut the drawer. Simple to turn off.

I wonder if anyone has done a study on how this uncivilized beeping affects the health of humans? For myself, it seems certain it would make me sicker if I had to be in the ER hearing all those sounds. Can't we have ring tones, say, of Pachelbel's Canon, or a few notes of other good-mood music?  

Perhaps the situation has generated a new kind of business opportunity; if I look in the phone book maybe I can find a listing for someone who will disconnect all the beeps that are getting on my nerves. The old-fashioned people noises we heard camping last week in Yosemite--I didn't appreciate them enough.

May Miscellany

I've been wanting to write a blog post about all the various goings-on in my life lately, but haven't found a way to write all the loose ends together.

One dumb idea was to use the theme of Lines or Separations, Old and New. Oh, my, that was unwieldy. But a few pictures that I found might have worked with that theme.

In the back yard pool the plumbing got completely blocked with matted spruce needles from the neighbors' tree. We had to call a repairman, but by the time he arrived and blew out the plug with CO2, B. had mentioned our problem to the neighbors and they cut down the tree! I hope they will finish off the tall stump soon.


Even now this oak hardwood is being turned into floors in our house, but I took the photo when it was sitting in the family room acclimating for two weeks.

I noticed how the lines of iron railing make an X over the stairs, as though to signify that they will not exist in their same form after they get some of that beautiful oak covering them. But in the meantime my elbow complained from pulling staples out.

The most troublesome line of all is this one, below, on the ceiling that flows without a border from the family room into the kitchen. The kitchen has satin paint but the family room has flat paint. I've been working hard, on a ladder several times with a brush or a little roller, painstakingly trying to get a straight line between the old textured kitchen surface and the new smooth family room ceiling. I'm not yet finished, but I hope all that's left is to roll once more some flat paint on the family room side.

It never occurred to me to have a complete hiatus in my doll-making efforts. I wanted some wool for stuffing the dolls. It is a long story, and I can't decide if it is horrible or hilarious, but in any case it is too painful to tell, how I ended up with ten pounds of raw and dirty sheep's wool that is so full of foxtails that no one would believe it. Nature Girl says that if one wants foxtail-free wool one probably has to get it somewhere besides California. But I'm not asking for that; I'd just like some 90% cleaner than what I got this time.

My first picture of the wool shows it at its most appealing. If you click on the photo you can see close up the lines of golden lanolin.

I have spent hours pulling out foxtails, and I thought I got them all out before washing it, during the skirting process, but afterward I discovered a million more, and that was just in a pound or two of the wool. The next two pictures show my post-washing sorting project, and a wad of stickers I removed with wool fibers still clinging. Now I have to wash it again to get out the dirt that the hidden foxtails held on to through the first three washings.


Before I leave this topic, I have to say that I love the wool, even though I got a bad batch. Working with it before washing, I couldn't stop sniffing at my hands with the good-smelling lanolin on them, and they felt so soft, too. Now that the lanolin is out, the wool is white and fluffy where it isn't still dirty. Makes me think that spinning would be satisfying, too. 

When I had my new stove functioning for two weeks I baked the last of the butternut squash from last summer.


And now that the stove is in the living room while the floors are being laid, I ran over to Wal-Mart and bought a GE electric kettle so I can make tea. That's it sitting on the new kitchen counter.



Since I didn't want to be in the way of the floor guys, I spent a long time at church one day, making communion bread, taking inventory in the bookstore, and removing several monster wheelbarrow loads of a pretty plant that had taken over one perennial bed.

When the plant is blooming, you get an impression of purple at the tips, but they droop down a bit, so it's vague and not eye-catching. When I cleaned up some of the mess I found these flowers that had fallen off, lying on the blacktop like flower candycorn.

May has been mostly cold and wet, with a few sunny and warm hours to encourage seeds to sprout. The gardens have some lush growth of certain plants, and the largest snails I have ever seen. I was able to fit in another trip to see Seventh Grandson, and as I type he is sitting on The Quilt playing with his toys.

Doesn't the Bible say something about lines falling in pleasant places? I could have used that verse, wherever it is, if I'd made this post all about lines.

My Famous Pipe-Smoker

Pipe tobacco was what my siblings and I gave our father for Christmas year by year. He smoked his pipe every evening while reading after dinner, and when my grandfather was visiting, they would settle down in armchairs side-by-side and smoke together.

My understanding of the health risk is that it is significantly less than cigarette-smoking, because one doesn't inhale very much. Those who smoke a pipe testify that it is incredibly relaxing, and the practice has even been prescribed as a treatment for anxiety disorder.

I can see how the habit might preclude other worse habits from developing, such as overeating, hurrying and worrying. My father lived to the age of 90, but to make a full disclosure, I must say that he stopped smoking a pipe when he was in his 50's. Grandfather (his is the arty pic below) also lived past 90; he stopped when my father stopped, as he no longer had a smoking companion.
 
That pipe-smoke smell is one of my favorites from long ago, but one that I haven't encountered for many years. Let it here be noted that if any of my sons or grandsons take up the custom, I will start making gifts of tobacco again. This offer doesn't apply to the girls.


I recently discovered a blog honoring  Famous Pipe Smokers , hundreds of them, from Clark Gable to Winston Churchill and Oscar Peterson. None of the fascinating photographs of these people pipes-in-mouth is as charming to me as the one of my sister and me on the lap of our dear pipe-smoker. He is not likely to be noted with the celebrities, but he is the most famous to me.

Down Day

A nearly sleepless night following an exhausting day yesterday, made for a day where I felt dreadfully slow, and sickly in various ways, and wore my dunce cap all day, too. I lack good judgment when my body is this tired. That is, I can't think well enough to know how to minimize the bad effects of extreme fatigue, and decision-making is a challenge. Last time this happened to me I went shoe-shopping because I had a birthday discount coupon at my favorite store, and I ended up spending a lot of money on the wrong thing, and could not get it back.

So at least I knew enough not to go to any stores. But I didn't take a nap, because I thought, "Naps don't usually work for me." Now I think it would have been worth a try. I didn't spend any money online, either, so that was good. I managed to come up with some short comments on other people's blogs, but I couldn't write anything long and thoughtful, so as to make progress on my book reviews, for example.

I accomplished about a tenth of what I'd put on my to-do list yesterday. I stayed home and did a little laundry, a little sorting of this and that, and I deadheaded the tea roses. I also picked a couple of rosebuds to add to this bouquet I started yesterday, from some of the things blooming in the yard.

Now I have taken my Benadryl, to make sure that I sleep deeply. I had to take it early, because it takes a good twelve hours to get out of my system. Tomorrow has its own long list of projects and I don't want to risk another day down. Thank God I can afford to have a surprise slow day and not make a lot of people suffer for what I didn't do.

If this quote from Bill Watterson, creator of Calvin and Hobbes, is true, "God put me on this earth to accomplish a certain number of things. Right now I am so far behind that I will never die," then I will wake up again tomorrow and be delighted to see that my dunce cap is no where to be seen. 

Streets of the Modern Wild West

In my neighborhood there is a residential street named Filament. When we were first house-hunting here I thought how humiliating, to have to have one's address be on "Filament Street." That is not bad at all, I have now discovered.

How would you like to live on Deny Court? I'm not sure if I'd prefer to live there rather than on, say, Pretentious Way. I'd like it better if it were Denial Ct--that is something I can get my mind around, and most people who live in houses have to be personally familiar with the attitude.

In any case, I'd consider it risky to look for a house to buy, in some of the areas of Greater Sacramento where these and other strange names for streets are found. I might fall in love with a house on Elude Ct., and if it were a bargain, I would feel a lot of pressure to sell my literary soul for it. Do good deals tend to come up more often on streets with names like Image, Essence, Adorn and Agree? Perhaps if the quality for which the street is name is positive, like Esteem Ct. or Acclaim Dr., the houses cost more, not less.

Are the houses on Pretentious Way really so? Or are the people who live in them? Perhaps the residents are only illiterate foreigners. Forgive me, but I really can't imagine. Many questions present themselves, such as, What sort of qualifications does one need to be a street-namer? I suspect that the naming agency nowadays pulls words out of the dictionary by means of a computer database.

As I think about it, many if not most street names that we are used to are concrete nouns, or common or proper names after plants and people, places or events. When you start having words for intangibles, or verbs and modifiers, it is bucking the sensible tradition and causes confusion in the mind every time you turn into your lane.

I didn't like it when streets in new developments were called "Mountain Ave" or such like, even though there was no elevation even in sight. But at least we know what a mountain is, and it is a simple concrete and neutral thing.

But to live on Proper or Refined or Benevolent: it does sound as though the street, or the houses-- or the people?--are being described. I don't like that. These are all the true names of real residential streets I am listing!

Streets with number or letter names should be considered more, if they are running out of ideas. The picture is of the road on which my childhood home was located, and it had a number for a name. But this is the age when a lot of people make up new names for their children, and perhaps that is the next thing to look for in street names. It will happen in California.

There are also streets named for general categories. The typical School Street or University Ave usually refer to a specific example that is nearby, but one doesn't usually run across Savant Drive any more than you would see a street named for houses, students, or cars. We might just as well have a street named Avenue, though I didn't see that one. I did see Component Way, which goes into the same pocket of my mind as Filament Ct.

This aspect of our culture is so vast and jumbled, I am getting more confused and bored as I ramble on. Let me just say that if have to move to Sacramento, the street I will look on is Clarity Court.

Cubbies and Holes Question

When we were at the furniture refinishing shop the other day the owner showed us this piece that he is currently working on for other customers (who, it turned out, are members of our family!). No one knows what it was designed for. The holes in the bottom of the compartments are too big for shot glasses, and I think too big for egg cups, also. When it was found, some of the cubbyholes had labels attached in front, listing some of the United States. But you will notice there aren't enough spaces for all 50. 



Does anyone out there have an educated guess as to the intended purpose of this furniture?

A Mystery of Cherries

Two days ago I set out on a journey, perhaps even an expedition. I forgot to bring my camera cable so I can't start posting my travelogue. Unless...Unless I tell about something that happened before I started taking pictures, something that may not be related to anything else I've been doing.

I was not an hour from home, driving through a little rain, twisting and turning on a road that winds along the slopes of a volcanic mountain. Coming around a curve, I spied at a turnout a gallon jar that I am fairly certain was full of maraschino cherries. It was just sitting there neatly upright in the middle of the wide flat area of dirt. Of course my resourceful self said, "Stop! Someone has left a treasure for you."

That thought was just a flash. There was no way to safely stop, and anyway, I certainly don't need those confections, even if I could know they weren't poisoned or something. But for miles and hours I kept returning to those red cherries in my mind, and wondering how their random appearance might eventually tie in to this whole trip. I normally like to see how everything does connect.

It might not be random; I looked that word up, because I rarely use it. Random means "occurring without definite aim, reason, or pattern." I don't know the story behind the event. Did someone have a reason for stopping and dropping off the jar? If it had simply fallen out of a vehicle it couldn't have landed upright. I can be reasonably confident that there is no pattern to be discovered. Unfortunately my mind doesn't naturally imagine stories to explain odd occurrences, so I can't make use of this sighting in that creative way. At this point it doesn't look like I will be able to fit an out-of-place jug of cherries into the flow of my journey. But there it was.

Any Lurkers Out There?

I just found out, a little late, that someone has declared this National Delurker Day.  I hereby invite anyone who hasn't already, to say hello.

It's o.k. if you want to stay as you are, though. I understand!

(I changed the picture because a dear person pointed out to me that the first one was a tad unseemly. So now I have an N.C. Wyeth painting called "Winter" here, that reminds me how nice it is to be able to lurk at home in January.)

In which I am given a prize for my Scribbling...

Deb on the Run gave me the Superior Scribbler Award while I was across the country and couldn't properly respond. Now I'm home and can say THANKS Deb! Deb's own blog is one of my favorites, but I guess I can't just Back-at-her...no problem, as there are several others I'd like to announce.

But first, here are the rules, for those of you I'll list below:

1. Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.
2. Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.
3. Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award.
4. Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we’ll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor![anyone can go there and check out the 1343 ! winning blogs that are linked so far. You might find a new one to love.]
   
5. Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.

And now the awards, to a few of the blogs I like to read regularly:

• My friend Jeannette at Bread on the Water posts thoughtful musings full of hope and beauty.
• Gigi at Firefly Cottage writes about homemaking, including wonderful pie recipes.
• The blog name Happy at Home attracted me when I first saw it, and Laurel's loving descriptions of her family life keep me coming back.
• Koinonikon is the name of Margaret's blog, where her careful writing about the working out of her salvation is a joy to read, and always instructive.
• If you get me mixed up with the blogger at Lifenut, it is only because her name is Gretchen, too. She is witty and wise and I laugh out loud reading about her family-full days.

As to my own writing, the name Superior Scribbler pleases me very much, as the "Scribbler" part matches my self-concept and attempts to join in that Great Conversation we humans are having. Thank you all for being here in It with me.

Worms are Tempting Me

I don't like Halloween, and we never participated in the "festivities" with our kids, but we do usually give out candy if we are home. I hate spending the money for it, too! When I was a trick-or-treating child, many people would give us homemade cookies or candy. I know that's not cool these days.

I think the uncoolness started with evil people giving poisoned cookies, or was it an urban myth? You'd think that would discourage parents from sending kids out, period, but it just means that the homey treats will be thrown out.

Children who carry around pillowcases full of sugary junk can afford to turn up their noses at a mere cookie. BUT I doubt they would find this treat cooked up by Macheesmo boring. I am sorely tempted to get more into the icky Halloween spirit just so I can make them.

Prevention?

I used to read Prevention Magazine when it was about wheat germ and megavitamins, so when I was offered a free subscription last year I said Why not? There might be something useful and inspiring in there.




Wrong. After reading a few pages of the first two issues that arrived in my mailbox, I couldn't get interested, so I started tossing them in the trash as soon as they arrived.

But not before I began to notice a theme to the cover displays. I am not clever enough to come up with a more appropriate name for the periodical, but I'd like to.



Any ideas out there?